Pride and Petulance
by aledagio
Summary: Two-hundred and thirty-five years single, America has been pursuing England for years.  England however seems to think America has no capacity for romance.  But what will the American do when he overhears England saying that his dream boy is Mr. Darcy?


I, the Untied States of America, was in a dilemma.

Not the economy kind of dilemma. I've heard enough shit about it from my boss that that would be the last thing I would want to think, must less talk about. No, my problem was getting England to go out with me.

Me, in love with England? The stogy old man who raised me? Surprised me too; I thought I was the straight one out of all the nations (Germany and Italy, Romano and Spain, I had a hard time distinguishing the gray area of gay and European). I didn't plan for it and I still don't know how it started. I guess over time England's eyes started to look pretty and I noticed his shoulders were kinda small and feminine and his nose looked adorable all scrunched up like a rabbit… I didn't realize my man-crush until I was singing _Hey There Delilah_ in the shower and England's name started to replace Delilah's name and I was suddenly hit by the HOLY SHIT I'M TOTALLY GAY FOR ENGLAND truck. Yeah, it was a big deal. I could tell my boss got a kick out of it when I told him the news over breakfast and he started to choke on his poppy seed bagel (not a loss, they're just stale donuts anyway). So there was that whole coming to terms with my sexuality thing and drama and KFC buckets and glitter-speed up to present day and viola, you get a very charming American ready to get his English muffin.

And here we get to the problem. With my beautiful looks and golden boy charm I expected Arthur to fall all over me. Didn't happen. I tried everything, plush unicorns, a dyed green bunny to make up for his imaginary one, burgers in the shape of a heart, roses, but nothing got his attention. For some reason he must have thought I was asexual or something cause he would _not take the hint_. He gets all this romantic crap and blows it all away; the unicorn was treated like a bad joke, he told me to not bring animals to meetings when presented with the bunny, the roses were tossed in the trash (I think that was France's fault more than anything), and upon seeing the burgers he told me to clean up my mess. Who knew England was such a heartbreaker?

So there I was, at a meeting, looking to the other side of the table where England was. He had already given away the chocolates I gave him that morning to Italy and I was feelin a little out of my game already. Didn't help that I was bored as hell and tired from staying up all night having a _Bourne_ marathon.

Head resting on my palm I sighed, blowing upwards and making my hair suspend in the air. England was out of his chair now, strangling France. Pretty routine during lunch breaks.

Strangely enough, even with the whole "sexual tension" and rumored flirting between the two I never really got jealous. Wasn't too surprising when you think about it, first, that was the most visious and violent flirting I ever saw and second, France was pretty helpful, not on love advice but the opposite. For all France's flirting England never, never gave into it, not one time, that meant that France was pretty much a walking book on _What Not to Do to Win Over England's Affections_. I had a pretty good list going, no groping, no jumping on him whilst naked, no French, no French pet names, no insulting Doctor Who, etc.

It looked like I was going to get another pointer by the turn of the conversation, "Why must you be so mean to me,_ Angleterre_?" France word-vomited; honestly, you think French people were sick by the way they spoke, that and he just got out of a chokehold and had a pretty decently bruised neck.

Arthur was angrily sipping his tea; it was hard not to crack up laughing with the way his pinky was out all fancy-like, "Because you've been a right wanker for the past two thousand years," he hissed over the cup.

"Come now, the times have changed, why can't we?"

"Because I said so."

France kneeled before England. This is new. I leaned a bit forward; maybe I could add a new page to the _What Not to Do_ book, "Please, _Angleterre_," he begged, "Is there anything, _anything_ I can do to change your mind?"

I leaned in even more. It was always helpful that France asked questions I always wanted to ask England (not like I couldn't myself, I'm just too…busy being romantic).

"Nothing," England huffed.

"Anything at all?"

"Nothing."

"...Please?"

England slammed his cup down on the table, "Fine! If you want me so much France, be Mr. Darcy!"

Both France and I kinda blinked, "Mr. Darcy?" France asked.

England blushed, "Yes, Mr. Darcy. Don't you read good literature? He is perfect in every way, more so than you could ever wish to be."

France raised eyebrow, "You cannot mean…Mr. Darcy from one of your people's books,_ Pride and Prejudice_?"

Oooooooh, that dude.

"Yes, that's the one," England got a sick, dreamy look in his eyes.

France grimaced and gave a long sigh, "I am losing…to an imaginary character. Suddenly, this seems a whole lot worse than I thought," he ran a hand through his hair like he was a tired old man, "I think…I'm going to grab a drink." The French Fry turned away without one of his fancy Adieu's.

I have a little pout of my own, that didn't teach me much. Well, at least that proved England was 100% gay, a positive voice sounded in my head. I decided to go with that voice and smiled. There was still some hope for me yet.

The meeting passed on with the regular boringness and burger spree (while I was standing up at the podium, it was great) and I was pretty good except for the dull pain in my head. There was something in there, an idea that was forming, trying to break free, some kind of plan that would guarantee me a warm ride to that cold British heart. It nagged me on the way to my hotel room and when I changed out of my choking suit and tie and when I was watching SpongeBob. By the time I was in the shower I was banging my head against the wall in frustration.

Crack.

Crap.

I looked up to see an America-head-sized spider crack on one of the white tiles. Great, more good news for the boss. Why couldn't I be some superhero? Go out and beat up some bad guys to get rid of-

Wait.

Be-be something…be Darcy…

"THAT'S IT!" I jumped with realization and slipped, falling to my ass on the wet tub. I didn't care; I knew what to do now.

"America? Are you alright?" the shower curtain was torn open and good ol' Canada looked down at me with a panicked look in his eyes, eyes that were filled with the sight of my naked bod, "OH, GOD-,"

"Yes!" I was up to my feet in a second and grabbed my brother before he ruined the moment and whisper screamed some more, "I know what we're going to do today-I mean- tomorrow!"

Canada was as squeamish as ever, looking up at the ceiling and trying get away. Silly Canadia, "What America?"

"Research!"

"What."

I grinned at him, "It's about time I change my image. Time to become Mr. Darcy!" I did a super awesome pose to go with it and sprinted out of the room, towel around my neck and flowing beautifully behind me.

"…What?"

**AN: This has been stewing in my mind for quite some time. Had a great time writing it. I generally prefer writing from England's point of view but America's pretty fun as well, sooooo many references (if you can pick out all the stuff referenced in the disclaimer I applaud you XD).**

**This one will be hard to update this story quickly like Screeching Sirens because I've only written the first chapter. The only thing keeping me going is y'alls feedback so review please!**

**Disclaimer: Pride and Prejudice, Hey There Delilah, the Bourne series, Charlie Brown, Doctor Who, Phineas and Ferb, and Hetalia all belong to their respective owners. I am just a lowly fanfic writer.**

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